


The 27 Club

by Vmwrites



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: 27 club, Adult Losers, Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, M/M, Multi, inspired by a couple tiktoks i saw, rock n roll babyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vmwrites/pseuds/Vmwrites
Summary: "Here you go," the Devil said, passing Richie a guitar and Hawaiian button down."You have until your 27th birthday."
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Connor Bowers/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, possibly more to be added in background, richie and connor is only for 2 seconds
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Down Under

Richie Tozier made his way down into the kitchen of his parents' house on a hot July afternoon. He had a piercing headache from the previous night's 'jam' session in Connor Bowers' garage and his hair was sticking up in every direction from his restless sleep. 

His mother glanced up from their marble island table and made a not-so-discreet sound of disgust. 

"Well good morning to you too, mother."

"It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Richie."

"Hey, hey, leave the boy alone would you?" Wentworth Tozier emerged from the living room, planting a kiss on his wife's cheek that she quickly wiped off with the back of her hand. 

Maggie used to think it was just her son she didn't understand, but after the many settling years of marriage, she realized that it was men in general that she didn't understand. More specifically, the Tozier men. She didn't understand how Went could look at their 21-year-old son who wasted all of his intelligence and amazing grades to chase some silly music dream and see nothing wrong. She didn't understand how they both acted so carelessly and fearlessly in everything they did. Their fearlessness instilled immense fear within herself. As if to confirm her darkening thoughts, she glanced over to her side where she could see her son trying to fish a waffle out of their toaster using a fork.

"RICHIE," she screamed. 

He flinched in return, dropping the fork to the floor. 

"Jesus fucking Christ mom."

"Are you insane!" she shouted, "Do you know how dangerous that is!"

"Oh it's fine Maggie," Went said as he patted his son on the back, "You quickly eat and I'll take you out to work."

Went managed to get Richie a job in a small music store just out past the intersection of their house. He figured if Richie was going to stand his musical ground, he might as well help find him a job that suited it until he found something _real_ to do with it, even though deep down, Went had a feeling that Richie would be their forever. 

The store was old, only had one person working per shift, and was almost exclusively empty of any customers. Went figured Richie wouldn't mind and he didn't. He was getting paid for sitting in a small place filled with various instruments to mess around with. 

Richie ate his breakfast and Went dropped him off in front of the store. As Richie walked in, the older man who was tending the counter walked out. There was never any use for two people to be working at once in there. 

He waved him off and settled on the stool with the moveable seat behind the counter, and began to spin in around in it with a small sigh. 

He thought about last night's escapades in Connor's garage. The half musical "jam" as Richie liked to call it, and half "jam" that was focused solely around each other and not-so-much the clothes they had on their backs. Unfortunately for Richie, as almost always when it comes to him and any sort of romantic involvement, it didn't work out. By the end of the night, Connor openly told him that he had met some bassist of a band that's _really getting up there_ , and he was gonna be going on the road with him.

Richie's disappointment was immense and all he wanted was to get Connor and that stupid bassist who's apparently getting to live all of his dreams out of his head. He got up from the stool and adjusted his glasses while walking around the counter to the front of the store. 

He pulled down the first electric guitar his eyes met. It was an old, chipped red, no-name one similar to the one he used at home. He sat on the small bench by the instruments and began to play the strings softly, keeping his head down at the horribly aged guitar the whole time. 

Suddenly, over the sound of his soft tune, the chime of the front door rang, indicating that someone had walked into the store. 

Richie kept his head down at the guitar, it was a strange and rare occurrence, and he figured whoever it was, was probably only popping in to take a look around. No one ever really bought anything and he was used to people just stumbling in because they had nothing better to do. 

"Hey there," Richie said with his head still down as he strummed the strings with effortless concentration, "feel free to let me know if you need any help."

"Oh, you seem busy," spoke a foreign woman's voice. 

Richie was taken aback by the voice at first. The woman seemed to have had some sort of accent. _Maybe New Zealand? Wait, no, that's Australian. That's straight from the land down under,_ he thought. 

He looked up to see a woman with long red hair and smooth-looking sun-kissed skin. She was wearing a short red dress, red stilettos and her lips were a blazing fiery red to match the rest of her. She was just _red._

He paused for a moment, surprised to see such a person walk in, but quickly snapped himself out of it to offer her any help.

"No, I'm not, sorry, I can get you something if you nee-"

She cut him off of his words, "Play me a tune."

Richie squinted his eyes behind his thick frames. 

"Uh.. sure.. which one?"

"Hm..." she walked over to the counter and traced her finger over its edge, "let me hear some Hendrix."

Richie gulped and adjusted his glasses before looking back down at the guitar and playing again. He strummed away to the sound of _All Along The Watchtower_ and the woman made an "ah" sound toward him. 

He stopped after a few moments and looked up to see her leaning her side against the counter, staring at him with a smirk on her face. 

"You're very good."

"Thank you...is there anything I can get yo-"

She cut him off again, "Please, come on over here." 

She pointed her finger over the counter at the stool Richie sat on when he first arrived. He got up quickly and nervously, unsure if this person was about to take out a gun and make him empty the register of its little money, or just kill him, or try to sell themselves to him. Despite all his worries, he went and sat on the stool and he leaned over the counter, resting both arms on its top.

She didn't say anything at first and simply stared at him with that same smirk on her face. Richie, in his slightly panicked and awkward state, decided it would be a good idea to whip out his best Australian accent and hopefully break the uncomfortable feeling he had growing inside him. 

"So, you come from the land down under huh?" he said in an obnoxiously bad Australian accent. 

She surprisingly laughed with great cheer, "Yes actually, I do. The land way down under."

Richie laughed quietly, unsure of what she meant. 

There was another brief moment of silence immediately broken by the Australian woman's voice.

"You're Richie Tozier."

Richie looked at her, shocked. He had never met this woman in his life, he didn't have a name tag on, and he was sure that if his parents knew someone like this he would remember them. He stayed in a surprised silence and let her continue to speak.

"You are 21 years old, you still live with your parents, you never went to college, you're gay-oh how unfortunate for me, and baby you can play that shitty guitar like a real fucking rockstar."

Richie still stared at her, stunned. She only smiled and kept going.

"You can sing too, got that nice raspy rock 'n' roll voice huh? You have that strong frontman energy that you need to let shine."

He finally spoke, "H-How do you know all of this?"

"Well my dear," she started and began to walk around the store, turning her back on him. She gently touched the drum set that was sat on the floor and turned her head in his direction slightly, "I am the Devil."

Richie began to laugh, ready for her to begin laughing too and say something like 'yeah, your parents sent me', but she didn't, she just turned to face him and was no longer smiling. 

"What? You don't believe me?"

"I'm sorry...I don't believe in any of that stu-"

He was cut off again, only this time not by the sound of her voice. A loud _woosh_ erupted into the air and with a small cloud of smoke, appeared an old-looking scroll style piece of beige toned paper. 

Richie flinched and fell back right onto his ass off the stool. Now she was the one laughing. 

She took the paper into her hand and walked over to the counter, peering over it, down at him on the floor.

"Are you alright, dear?" She said with no genuine concern. 

He scrambled to his feet and smoothed his shirt over with his hands before clearing his throat.

"I-I'm fine."

She seemed to take great amusement in the way he stuttered over some words as if she knew something about the particular stuttering that he did not. At least not yet. 

She turned the paper to him, and he was able to take a look at what it said. 

**CONTRACT**

**BECOME ONE OF THE WORLD'S GREATEST.**

Underneath the large heading, there were many small words that Richie could barley see even with his glasses. 

"I know, I know," she said as she saw him struggling, "there's a lot of words, I have to add in every possible detail in these things, but they really aren't important."

She stared at him momentarily, waiting for him to say something, but he never did, he just simply stared at the paper, so she continued. 

"Let me give you the gist of it. This contract is binding until _you are_ 27 years old. If you sign this, till then, you will be one of the greatest, most famous and rich rockstars the world has ever seen, and then, once your mark is made, you die and finally take a rest from the fast life. 

"The 27 club," he muttered out quietly.

She winked at him, "You got it, baby."

"H-How does it work?"

"Well, it's rather simple. With the small price of your soul, all you have to do is sign here and I will take care of the rest. Once you walk out this door, that is, if you sign, every opportunity to make it is now yours. And believe me, honey, you will."

Richie chewed his lip and stared at the paper. His mind began to race with all the thoughts of those around him. His clearly disappointed mother, his trying his best to be supportive despite knowing he'll never make it dad, and Connor who seemed to think someone else who was 'up and coming' was better than him. He quickly grabbed a pen from behind the counter.

"Ah, ready so soon, very eager, don't you want to hear mo-"

This time she was the one to be cut off as he quickly rammed his pen into the paper and signed his signature on the dotted line located at the bottom of the scroll-like sheet.

She laughed, pleased, "Very good, very good. Now close your eyes for me, sweetheart."

Richie was shaking now, but he took her directions and closed his eyes. He could hear another _woosh like_ sound and was glad he didn't see whatever it was that she had to do, because he may have just fainted.

"Open up."

He opened his eyes and there she still was, only now she was holding two objects in her hands.

In one, was a glorious D'angelico EX-DC standard guitar that made Richie salivate with its teal blue painted body, and in the other a _Hawaiian shirt?_

She walked over to him. 

He rubbed his eyes quickly as she walked over, he suddenly felt like he was in a dream. 

"Here you go," the devil said passing him the guitar and tacky Hawaiian button-down.

"You have until your 27th birthday."

He took both objects into his hands. The guitar was god-tier to him, but the shirt? 

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this."

She smirked, "You'll see."

He shot her an unsure glance.

"When you get there, you'll know," she said before turning to walk out, "You, my friend, have some business to tend to," She threw back a small sheet of paper with an address scribbled down on it and Richie caught it clumsily with his Hawaiian shirt occupied hand. 

"Go home and grab your songs, you have a studio session to attend."

She walked out leaving Richie dumbfounded and staring at the door blankly.

"What the fuck," he muttered to himself, "I just fucking sold my soul to the Devil."


	2. Richie Tozier and the Losers Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays here's my gift to you

Richie immediately rushed home to grab his songbook, dogging all the pestering frantic questions being thrown to him by his mother. He brushed her off with a simple 'I'll explain later!' while taking her car keys, running out of the house, and heading to the address left to him on the small sheet of paper. 

When he arrived at the studio, there she was, standing up against the back wall wearing her same all-red ensemble. She flashed him a bright smile and a wave, to which he returned by only gripping the steering wheel tighter and having his whole body tremble. 

He could hear her heavily accented voice call to him through the small crack in his window.

"Well, aren't you gonna come out, baby?"

He snapped himself out of his nerves and climbed out of his mother's car. She watched and laughed in amusement at the tall lanky boy coming out of the small worn-out car.

"That's no car fit for a rockstar."

Richie stuffed the keys in his jean pocket and turned to look at it. His mother's old burgundy Kia was most definitely no match for a rockstar, but it was hers, and he took a slight offense to her making fun of his mother's car. 

"Don't worry baby, I'll take care of that."

She grabbed him by the arm gently and began to lead him inside. Richie felt an intense pang of panic rush into his chest. 

"Wait, wait, wait."

She stopped walking and looked up at him.

"What?"

He looked down at her. That was something Richie hadn't noticed earlier. He was taller than her. _Richie Tozier, you are taller than the Devil,_ he thought to himself before pushing the thought back and responding to her irritated face. 

"I can't just go into a studio and record. I-I, I need back up, I need-"

"Sweetie, that's already all taken care of." She smiled at him and continued to lead him down the tight hallway.

"I-It is?"

"Yes. Now quit the stuttering. You're gonna wish you didn't do it as much once we get in there."

She brought him through one of the closed doors in the hallway and in there was a large room filled with people and a recording booth. Not one of the people were in the recording booth but they were all scattered across the room, chatting and smoking. All of them appeared to be close to Richie's age, if not the exact same age. 

_Were they all here for the same reason?_

Suddenly, a young man stood up from one of the room's chairs upon laying eyes on him and the woman he knew as the Devil. He had curly hair styled in such a way that made what should have appeared as a mess, a neat, time-consuming work of art. He wore an oversized jacket over his half unbuttoned dress shirt and tight pants. Out of everyone in the room, he appeared to be the most well put together. 

"Penelope," he said.

 _Penelope?_ Richie thought to himself while hoping he did not make a face of confusion or skip a beat.

"Hi Stanley love, this is the boy I called about."

He smiled and put his hand out to Richie, "So you're Richie. Hi, I'm Stan Uris. I'm gonna be doing some keyboard and guitar work for you.”

Richie shook his hand and smiled at him before laughing awkwardly. _Did he know?_

Before he could conjure up any sort of questions, a girl with red hair just as short as she was in height went up and put a hand atop of Stan's shoulder.

"Hey," she said as she took a drag from the cigarette in her other hand, "I'm Beverley, I'm gonna be your drummer."

Richie smiled before quietly muttering out, "Hey."

Richie heard a voice from a spot behind Stan and Beverly call out to them. 

"Hey, this the guy?"

Beverley and Stan parted from each other slightly to reveal a dark-skinned man with an acoustic guitar in his hands, a cigarette hanging from between his fingers, and two people on either side of him. They were all sitting on a couch, but Richie couldn't seem to get his eyes of this man in the middle. His jeans hung to his thighs perfectly and his t-shirt was slightly too small for him in the best possible way. _He was hot._ And he made Richie's breath catch in his throat.

He put his hand up, "I'm Mike Hanlon, I do a little bit of everything but I'm best with my hands and a six-string."

_I bet you are._

Before Richie could respond, the boy on his left side spoke. 

"I'm Ben, I'm gonna be helping you with songwriting."

Richie smiled and repeated his name back to him with a tone of relief in his voice, "Ben."

He was a good songwriter when he had to be, but there were times when he got so frustrated with the writing process that he wished he had a partner there to help him. To hear this young man say the words _helping_ and _writing process_ in the same sentence almost made him forget that he had signed a deal with the Devil to be there. 

"I-I-I'm B-Bill," stuttered out the pale boy on his right side. His hair was red, similar to his new drummer Beverley's, but his skin was so pale that it stood out stronger on his face than it did on her with her sun-kissed rosy skin. 

"I-I p-play b-b-b-"

 _Penelope_ cut him off, "He plays the bass."

Now he understood why she had told him to stop stuttering over his words. 

Richie smiled awkwardly at tall of them and before he could say another word they all flinched at the sound of the door swinging open.

"You guys were hotboxing the entire place and then I have to deal with all the complaints. If you can imagine that no one out there can breathe with all the smoke going under the door, imagine how _I_ feel _in_ here. I have fucking ASTHMA," said a small raging man as he stormed into the room.

He was much shorter than Richie and he was almost as neatly put together as Stanley was. He was dressed very similarly to him with his tight pants and slightly unbuttoned shirt, the only difference being that this boy here seemed to be much more colorful. While Stanley's pants were a solid black, this one's pants were a washed-out salmon pink color. He was clearly young, as Richie and the rest of the people in the room, but his demeanor and way of speaking made him seem like he was much older.

He took one look at her and Richie and appeared to flinch.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he started.

She only laughed and said, "Oh, it's fine Eddie. He'll have to get used to you won't he?"

"Yeah I guess," he said breathlessly before sticking a hand out, "Eddie Kaspbrak, I'm gonna be your manager."

Richie raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you a bit young to be managing."

She spoke for him, "He may seem that way, but trust me he can handle a whole lot."

_So she knows him? Does he know who she is?_

He put his hands up and waved them dismissively with a slight smile on his face, "Yeah, yeah I'm okay."

Richie smiled at him slightly. He was cute. There was something about him that Richie immediately took a liking to. He found himself instantly distracted looking down at this small angry man's face, and he was staring back. They shared a silent smirk before Eddie went ahead and broke it.

"Penelope, it's nice of you to bring us another client...we're really sorry we couldn't do much for the last one..." he trailed off. 

"The last one?" Richie asked.

Stan took it upon himself to explain, "Yeah...Penelope hooked us up with our first-ever musician. A rapper. He was a really really sweet guy, got really big...but he uh.."

"He died.." Richie finished for him.

"Yeah," Stan said, "unfortunately."

Eddie frowned and looked down to the floor, the rest of them uncomfortably followed suit. 

_So they don't know._

Beverley was first to lift her head from the ground and spoke, "We're really happy to be getting to work with someone new though. It isn't every day we get approached from big record people like Penelope. "

_So that's what they think._

"We'll take care of you out here Richie. I miss having a little rock 'n' roll in my life." Mike said, making Richie blush slightly. 

"Y-yeah m-m-me t-too," Bill said. 

The Devil, or the woman they all seemed to know as Penelope, turned to Richie and smiled, "Well honey, here you are. Meet your band and crew. Looks to me like you're gonna need a stage name."

"A stage name?" he asked.

Beverley and Stan responded in unison, "A stage name."

They laughed and Beverley shoved him lightly, "Shut up you loser."

Richie took a seat on the armrest of the other couch by the door and put a hand on his knee. _Loser_. He could see out of the corner of his eye, Eddie was staring at him. He looked up to meet his eye, but Eddie quickly turned away, making Richie's mouth turn up into a smirk. 

"I think I got it," Richie said.

"Oh yeah?" Ben said, "What do you got?"

He sent a glance around the room at all of them.

"Richie Tozier and the Losers Club."


	3. Richie Tozier and His New Found Glory

After being sent out to retrieve his new glorious guitar and horrendous Hawaiian shirt,  _ Penelope  _ had Richie get into the recording booth and start trialing some of his material. Once he had gotten some things down and pat, everyone else and their instruments came in to create some fascinating sounds that Richie could have never imagine his own written songs would hold.

Bill stepped out of the recording booth, bass guitar in hand,

"I-i t-think that deserves a c-c-celebration."

"I agree," Mike chimed in, pointing a finger-made gun at Richie, "We've never had a session that successful."

Richie looked down at his shoes with a smile, "Yeah you guys really made my songs rock."

Beverly stood up and touched the Hawaiian shirt Richie had left thrown over the chair in front of the sound panels, "That was only the beginning, new friend."

_ Penelope stood _ next to the chair and watched as Beverley's hand traced over the shirt. She smirked and averted her gaze to Richie.

"Why don't you put the shirt on, love?"

Richie looked over at it, "That stupid thing? Do I have to?"

Stan moved in and picked it up from its place on the chair before tossing it onto Richie, making it land atop of his head, "Oh yeah, you have to."

He sighed and stood up from his seat on the couch's armrest. 

Eddie stayed sat on the couch across from his. He had a beer in his hand and his eyes looked slightly glazed over as if the few sips of the one beer he had been drinking already got to him. 

Richie-who suddenly had no shame left within him- began to peel the quarter-sleeve baseball shirt off his back right in front of the room's entirety. 

Everyone else appeared to not pay any attention to Richie's undressing aside from the few stolen glances everyone sent his way as a means to check him out, but Eddie nearly sent the nearly-filled beer can rolling when he laid eyes on Richie's bare midriff. 

He began to choke on the liquid he had started sipping before Richie decided he would strip directly in his eye-view and everyone turned to look at him.

"You okay Eddie?" Mike asked as he patted him on the back to try to ease the coughing.

"Y-yeah," he choked out, "I'm fine."

Richie smiled slightly at the encounter and threw the Hawaiian shirt over his arms. He then buttoned each button with shame as he realized he had to go out in public in a tone other than gray or black. He was only used to neutral colors, ones that don't stand out very much, not this loud, eccentric type of eye-catching dress.

As if having read his mind,  _ Penelope  _ made her way to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Now you're a rockstar baby."

* * *

All riding in separate cars, the new band that would soon become the World's biggest explosion known as _Richie Tozier and the Losers Club_ made their way into a cramped up bar in a sketchy corner of a barely lit street. 

For a place that seemed so underground, it was really  _ happening,  _ as Richie would always say about places he found fun or cool. It was packed with a busy bar-top, a bunch of bench/picnic-style tables, a massive dance area, and a humongous stage that appeared to be used as an "open-mic." It was filled with only a microphone, two guitars, a bass, and a semi-decent drum set.

Richie watched as different groups of people went up and rocked the instruments, getting almost every bar patron on their feet. 

He stayed seated in his spot on the bench with his new D'angelico stood up between his legs. He didn't trust to leave his new baby in the car in such a sketchy area, and he wasn't even sure he would be able to drive home on his own after all the alcohol he was consuming, so he decided bringing it inside would be his best bet. 

His eyes glanced over the room before they landed on a pair almost identical to his own sitting across from him. They belonged to Eddie. While they were similar to his, they were softer, _prettier_ even, and Richie thought he could stare into them for the rest of the night before Bill smashed into his side, sending the drink he in his hand spilling down his ugly Hawaiian shirt. 

Bill was in hysterics over something Mike had said and didn't notice he had knocked Richie a good one until Richie flinched back and his elbow met his shoulder. 

"Woah shit dude sorry, did I do that?"

Richie stared down at the wet shirt, unsure of what to do, "Yeah man it's okay."

He heard a slight giggle and glanced up to see Eddie hiding his mouth behind his hand. 

He smiled, "What you little shit, you think this is funny?"

Whatever giggle he had hiding behind his hand had vanished and his hand dropped to the table, "Who you calling a little shit, asshole?"

Beverly roared with laughter from the spot next to Eddie and clapped him roughly on the back, sending him jolting toward the tabletop with a flinch.

"You're a real trash mouth Richie!" she called across the table, "I like you!"

He smiled at her, "I like you too."

Looking down at his soaked shirt, he cringed. He fumbled for the buttons and with a nervous 'uh', began to pop each one. In his slightly drunk (still shameless) state, he decided leaving the button-down open to expose his bare torso was his best option. 

The whole table whistled, except for Eddie who just simply stared in that same fixated state he did when Richie began to undress in front of him. 

Richie laughed nervously and glanced over the table. His eyes met those of  _ Penelope's _ , who was watching him and the escapade occurring with a smirk on her face. Something about her stare made Richie swallow a hard lump in his throat. She motioned her head toward the now-empty stage and Mike immediately picked up on the action.

"Oh fuck yeah, let's go play!" he said, removing the arm that was once wrapped around Stan's shoulders and lifted himself up from the bench.

"I'm down," Beverley said, following suit.

Stan appeared to think for a moment, then stood up, "Ah what the fuck."

Richie stayed seated absentmindedly and regarded his drink with a slight smile. He thought for a moment about how he still hadn't called his mom and how she'd probably be worried, but his thoughts were interrupted by Ben's voice.

"Aren't you gonna join them, Mr. Frontman?"

Richie looked up from his glass and over at Ben, "Oh, no, I couldn't"

He smiled at him, "Why not?"

Richie pointed down at his exposed skin, "I'm like, half-naked dude."

Bill got up and proceeded to the table's opposite side and stood next to Mike, "Y-you look c-c-cool."

Mike nodded and knocked his knee against Eddie's back gently, "Yeah, you look cool. Tell him he looks cool, Eddie."

Eddie kept his head to the drink in his hand, completely avoiding any possible eye contact and his cheeks were flushed a bright pink, "Yeah, so cool."

"See, you're cool!" Stan called to him.

Richie laughed and waved his hand at them, "No, guys I can't, really, I don't even know what song to play."

Mike flung his arm around Bill's waist and Richie couldn't help but notice a cutting eye sent his way from Stan, "Oh come on it could be something so generic,"

Mike turned his eyes toward  _ Penelope _ , "How about you give us some direction boss lady."

She smirked at him, "Generic, you say?"

"If you must."

"Hm.." she tapped her chin in thought, "Joan Jet, please. I love Rock 'n' Roll."

Richie looked over at her, "You want me to go up there with barley any shirt on and sing  _ that song _ ."

She only nodded at him and smiled her wicked smile. He was shocked with himself when he actually stood up and made his way to the other side of the table. Just a moment ago, he was ready to give any possible argument to get out of playing a song, and now he here was, going up on a stage, nearly shirtless, ready to sing a rather suggestive song.

After arriving at the stage, Beverley made her way to the back and sat herself on the stool behind the drums. Bill picked up the one stray bass and Mike and Stan picked up the only two guitars that were present. Richie found himself clouded with a momentary thought that this moment was fixed. Some sort of fate twisted his mind that evening to bring his guitar in from the car and now here he was in need of one, and there he held it right in his hands. Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just because the Devil was in the room. And she wanted to hear some Joan Jet.

Richie flung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and he felt its cold body press against the bare skin of his abdomen.

He adjusted the mic and looked to his bandmates for some sort of unspoken approval. His eyes met Mike's. His bright smile even sent his eyes into their own smile and with that Richie knew what he had to do. 

"Uh..hi," he spoke into the mic, "I'm Richie and this is Richie Tozier and the Losers Club. We're just gonna have a little fun with you."

He turned back to look at Beverley and gave her that same little nod cue that he had given her earlier that day when they had been in the recording studio. Immediately, she began to count them in using her drum sticks. 

The minute they began to play that hard-hitting start of the song, magic seemed to happen. The whole room erupted into an uproar and the small dancing area was immediately filled. Richie smirked as the aura of the song began to take over. He glanced over to his left, where Bill stood nodding his head and strumming on his bass. He flashed him a smile that filled Richie with the same feeling he got from Mike's smile and Beverly tapping her drumsticks. They were practically all made for each other, they all understood each other and all seemed to know exactly what should be done and when. 

He glanced back over to his right and watched as Mike caught the eye of multiple female audience members and Stan laughed down at his guitar at the way the crowd seemed to immediately dive into their playing. Richie smiled so brightly he imagined it would have matched that of Mike's. He walked forward to the mic and began to sing. 

_ I saw him dancing' there by the record machine _

_ I knew he musta been about seventeen _

_ The beat was goin' strong _

_ Playin' my favorite song _

_ An' I could tell it wouldn't be long _

_ Till he was with me, Yeah me _

Ben watched from his seat at the table as the crowd took over the chorus, belting out every word as if their lives depended on it. He shook his head in awe. He thought they were good in the studio, but they really rocked it live. He got a strange almost  _ gut- _ feeling that they would really hit big this time. 

He glanced over at Eddie to see how he was taking up to the crowd's receptiveness, but when he did, all he saw was Eddie frozen in his seat, gripping his drink till his knuckles turned white, and his face was redder than it had ever been in his life. 

"Hey Eddie, are you okay?"

Eddie kept his eyes out to the crowd and muttered out an  _ mhm _ , but Ben soon realized it wasn't the crowd he was looking out at, it was Richie.

A now sweaty, messy Richie with a wide-open Hawaiian button-down and a voice that seemed to touch something in every last person sitting in that bar that night. When Ben looked back over at Eddie, he was pushing his aspirator into his mouth. 

Super hot, nearly shirtless, just Eddie's type, singing a song with all-male pronouns, Ben could see why Eddie nearly had an asthma attack. 

_ Penelope _ leaned over from her seat at the head of the table and acknowledged Eddie's state. She put on a nasty smirk and looked back to the band on the stage, or as Ben noticed with her as he did with Eddie, Richie Tozier in all his new found glory. 

They finished the song and began to walk down from the stage. Left, right, and center, people were patting their backs, kissing their cheeks and hands, and throwing them high-fives to which Richie could only respond to with the hand that wasn't occupied with his out-of-place expensive guitar. 

A young woman grabbed Richie by his face and pulled him toward her. She planted a rough kiss on his cheek that left a dark-purple lipstick stain and almost knocked his glasses off of his face. He stumbled to the side and laughed in response. 

Ben had noticed that there was a young man off to the side with a camera in his hand that seemed to have gotten multiple photos of the moment. He smiled to himself,  _ that's one you wanna catch on camera.  _

They made their way back over the picnic-style table and erupted in laughter and sighs. 

"That was fucking crazy!" Stan cried.

"It really was," Beverley smiled, "you really kick ass, you trash mouth."

"Oh stop," Richie said as he looked down with a hint of embarrassment.

"T-They went n-nuts for you, R-R-Rich."

Richie smiled at them, "They went nuts for all of us."

Mike excitedly motioned toward Ben, Eddie and  _ Penelope,  _ "Did you guys see that shit?!"

_ Penelope  _ and Ben both laughed and nodded, but Eddie still stayed in his shocked, blushed state.

Mike tilted his head at him, "Eddie?"

Before Eddie could respond, an older man with greying hair, a fancy suit, and multiple expensive rings made his way over to their table.  _ Penelope  _ recognized him immediately upon his arrival and she smiled at him and sent him a bone-chilling look with her icy blue eyes. 

The old man smiled back at her, "Good to see you, Penelope."

She nodded at him and sipped on her drink through a straw, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. 

He flashed her a smirk and then turned his attention toward Richie, "Hey kid," he then turned and regarded the rest of the table with a wave.

"I'm with Columbia Records, do you kids have a minute to chat?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's enjoying their holiday season!


	4. She Beat The Devil

_ "I'm with Columbia Records, do you kids have a minute to chat?" _

Richie gulped down at the man's hand as he extended it out for him to shake. He was shocked with how fast everything was happening. It didn't feel to him as if it had only been one single day in the slightest. How did he go from moping around at his shitty part-time job, bitching in his head about some boy who didn't want him, pondering upon the echoing voices of his disappointed parents, to being face-to-face with one of the many behind Columbia Records? 

"Nick Curalli," the man said as he firmly shook Richie's hand, nearly-as Richie exaggerated to himself- ripping it from his shoulder. 

"Richie Tozier," he said as he tried to return the firmness of the shake before turning to the rest of his new band, "and this is Beverly, Stanley, Bill, Mike, and over here is my new co-writer Ben and manager Eddie."

Richie was taken aback by his own words. If there was anything he was _horrible_ with, it was names. How was it, that after barley even a day with these people, he had all their names rolling off his tongue as if they had been sitting there since he took his first steps? What baffled him, even more, was how effortless he found it to introduce them as his band when the reality of the matter was they had not even officially been _together._

There was something odd about the situation to Richie, but whatever oddness succumbed him seemed to be completely ignored, or perhaps gone unnoticed by the one Nick Curalli. 

"You kids seem to really have something," he spoke as he glanced at each of them, "What you guys did up there was very special. Not like anything I've ever seen in this dump."

That was another part of the equation that seemed to puzzle Richie. What was someone belonging to such a prestigious and famous label doing  _ in this dump?  _ He sent a questioning glance over at  _ Penelope, _ but she only returned him a playful wink.

Richie stood there at a loss for words and Bill found it his place to take over, "T-thank y-y-ou s-s-sir."

Nick smirked at Bill as if he wanted to make a joke or play on the way Bill stuttered at him, but Richie finally found words in the back of his lungs that wanted to spring out. 

"It is such an honor to have had you listen," he spewed out like a dragon's fire. 

"Oh, it was a pleasure for me too kid," he said as he slapped a firm hand down on his shoulder, "I'm highly interested in seeing what I can do with you guys. Looks to me like you can be a big thing."

Richie laughed nervously and reverted his eyes to the floor before him, adjusting his glasses in the process. 

Nick shook his head at him and (if it was even possible) increased the strength of his grip on Richie's shoulder, "Gotta learn to cut the humble shit, kid. You got something special. You all do. You got these kids dancing tonight and that's very hard to do."

Mike beamed from his spot behind the table's opposite side. Beverly tapped the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray before her and sent a smile up towards him, "You think we could do it?"

"Oh I know you could do it," Nick said, finally removing his strong hand from Richie's shoulder, "But before we go all business mode, I wanna come in and take a look at some material you've worked on together. Original work, preferably. You guys got a studio?"

"Yes sir," Eddie spoke from his spot at the table nearly directly in front of Nick. Any sign of his once flustered state was gone and he was now intoxicated by the moment of recognition from a person so noble. He has worked with a few artists who had gotten extremely popular, including the rapper he worked with previous to Richie that passed away, but this felt different, this felt more  _ set.  _ Perhaps it was his intoxicated mind trying to trick him into thinking it would be different this time, they'd all really make it, and it would stay that way for a long, long time. 

Nick smiled down at him, "Perfect. I'd like to come in for a little visit and possibly a chat. How does tomorrow sound?"

The group's entirety, including Richie who realistically had yet to see Eddie as a direct  _ manager _ , turned to look at him for approval.

"Of course," Eddie answered.

"Wonderful. How does 11 AM sound?"

"Perfect."

Nick raised a hand and hit them all with a hard-hitting high-five. Eddie rubbed his hand discreetly following his as it made him sting uncomfortably. He could tell in everyone's faces that they had gotten the same feeling, but out of respect and ego, decided to suppress any potential confrontation to it. 

He turned his eyes back to Richie, "Special kid. I mean it. You all stay safe, I will see you all tomorrow. Oh and, by the way, Richie, love this whole open shirt gig, I'd keep it the girls'll love it" He flashed a wink at  _ Penelope and _ walked away, disappearing into the crowd before them. 

Richie looked down at his bare torso and blushed, only now realizing his shirt was still left open. He grabbed either side with each hand and tightly pulled it closed as he hugged himself around his waist, blush still flaming through his cheeks. 

"Holy fucking SHIT!" Mike yelled as he plunged an arm around  _ Penelope _ . 

If there was any doubt before that any of his new members/crew knew who, or in this matter  _ what, Penelope was _ , it had instantly diminished. Richie hadn't known Mike Hanlon for very long, but he felt that he knew him well enough to know if Mike knew he was sitting next to the Devil, he would most definitely not playfully fling his arm around her.

"We're really gonna make it this time, P! We're gonna make it big!" he called, removing his arm from her shoulder to throw it up in the air. 

She laughed and stood up from her seat at the table's head, her red dress flowing playfully above her knees, "We have a slightly early morning tomorrow wouldn't you kids say? Let's get going so you can sleep all this alcohol off."

Stanley nodded in agreement and stood up from the table, "But none of us are able to drive."

She waved her hand at him dismissively and began to walk from her table, "Oh, I'll get you some cabs. Don't worry about your cars, I'll have them taken care of. Meet me outside."

Beverley shook her head and laughed slightly, "That woman," she proceeded to do a playful mock of her Australian accent, " _ I'll have them taken care of _ , and will she ever. I swear I don't see how this woman manages to pull all this shit off."

Richie only found himself able to respond to this comment by smiling slightly. He could see how. He could see it all. 

They helped to clear off their table and then made their way outside where two cabs already awaited them. 

Bill was stumbling over his own feet and Stanley tried to help keep him upright with one hand on his waist and the other on his stomach. 

"What are you doing? You're a mess,"  _ Penelope  _ laughed toward him as she stayed leaning against the wall.

He giggled at her, "I wish my bike was here."

"Your bike?" her heavy accent echoed through the parking lot. 

"My bike."

"You'd never make it home on your bike."

"Oh sweetie, that bike, she beat the Devil."

_Penelope_ laughed wickedly and watched as Stanley urged him into the taxi, Mike following suit behind them.

That was another nail in the coffin for Richie. Drunk or not, if Bill knew the Devil stood before him, he would never say something so silly. He then realized that he most definitely should have put that metaphorical nail in the coffin earlier when Bill tangled her red hair in his finger and asked her if she was a real redhead. Then he continued on to say how he wasn't and it would soon wash out of his hair, and how he hoped for her sake hers would too. 

He tucked his hands into his pockets nervously and looked up to the sky in all of its starless glory. Suddenly his eye found that of one star, and it was a bright one. It shined vibrantly and Richie found himself smiling up to it. 

"It won't be there forever you know, don't go falling in love with it" Eddie's voice interrupted.

"Huh?" Richie said, turning his head slightly to see him. 

In the night's discreet light, Richie could make out Eddie's soft and gentle features. Features much too soft and gentle for someone who appeared to be so strung-up all the time.  _ Maybe he needs to get laid,  _ Richie thought,  _ maybe I could help him with that.  _

"It's not gonna be there forever. I mean...yeah, realistically it'll always be there, but you won't be able to see it."

Richie shook his head and stifled out a laugh, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, I'm drunk."

Eddie stared at Richie in awe as he put his head back in the direction of the sky. In the stance in which Richie stood, Eddie had a perfect view of the side of his torso as the wind blew either end of his opened button-down back behind him. 

He chuckled at him, keeping his head pointed up at the sky as a small smile crept across his face. With his head tilted back, he turned his head to Eddie, and before he could speak his head snapped back to the sound of Beverley's voice.

"Later losers!" she called as she climbed into the front seat of the taxi. She closed the door and they hurried off. The remaining four watched in silence as they drove off. 

The silence was quickly cut off by the remaining cab honking at them as a way to say  _ Hurry the fuck up.  _ Eddie flinched and Ben put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Richie, Ben, and Eddie began moving toward the cab, but  _ Penelope  _ stayed in her spot against the bar's wall. 

Ben turned back to look at her, "You coming, P?"

She smiled and waved, "No sweetie, I have somewhere to be, you guys go. I'll see you all tomorrow."

He nodded and continued to walk toward the cab, "Shotgun!" he called as he put himself into the front seat.

Richie and Eddie looked at each other before climbing into either side of the back.

"We're gonna need three different stops," Ben spoke to the driver.

Richie's drunken brain suddenly drowned out any sort of sound that was occurring around him, and his eyes suddenly fixated upon the boy next to him.

The back seat was dark except for the moonlight shining in. It was casting a glow across Eddie's face in a way that made Richie angry at it. How could this godforsaken moon be creating such a glorious hue of color across this anxious and angry man's face? How dare it make him feel drunk and in love with someone he knew for less than 24 hours?

Richie's thoughts were cut short by the sound of Ben's voice and Eddie's confused and concerned eyes quizzing him. He shook his head quickly and turned to look at Ben, who was staring at him. He noticed the cab driver's profile as his head was slightly turned in the direction of Ben. He was clearly irritated.

_ God, how long was I dazed for? _

"We need your address buddy," Ben said for what was probably the tenth time as his voice entailed. 

"Oh," Richie said adjusting his glasses before clumsily slurring out his home address.

Ben nodded and turned back toward the front seat. Richie noted that Ben radiated no sense of agitation in his tone, only hints of worry and concern. He felt it was something he could get used to, especially in a writing partner.

He chuckled to himself quietly as he thought of what a nightmare he himself is to write with.

"Get ready, Ben. I'm a tough one."

Eddie crossed his arms and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Ben laughed from the front seat.

"What are you talking about, Richie?"

"Oh, you will see in time, my friend."

After what felt like an eternity for Richie as he began to get exponentially car sick and was prepared to hurl all over the back seat at any moment, the cab pulled up to the front of his house.

"So this is where the man lives, huh?" Ben said jokingly.

"Yup," Richie slurred as he pushed the door open, "mi casa."

Eddie curiously peered through his window to try to get a good look at where the strange talented man who seemed to pop out of nowhere lived. He smiled slightly at the humble, average look of the home. That would explain why Richie is much more "normal" than any of the other artists Eddie had encountered in his lifetime. 

Richie stumbled around the cab and knocked on the back seat window. Eddie flinched and slowly rolled it down. Richie leaned half of his body in and ruffled his hair.

Eddie flinched back, "Hey fuck off."

"Goodnight Eduardo," he giggled before backing up, "B-B-B-Bennie and the jets."

Ben laughed and watched as Richie threw an arm up and walked back into his house. Eddie felt a blush rise on his cheeks and he quickly rolled up his window in fear that Richie would notice.

_ I swear to God Eddie,  _ he thought to himself,  _ do not fucking get feelings for the freak with the ugly Hawaiian shirt.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year everyone!


	5. La Bamba

The following morning's breakfast started off as awkward and accusation lingered silently in the air.

That was until Maggie Tozier spoke up with her accusing tone as if the air's aura possessed her body.

"You got in really late last night."

Richie looked up from his plate filled with eggs and put his fork down carefully whilst meeting his mother's eye. He hadn't been eating them, only swishing the eggs from one side of the plate to the other, his stomach still recovering from the previous night's alcohol shenanigans. 

While Richie's father would normally cut in when Maggie's voice took such a tone, saying something like,  _ oh lay off the boy _ , he was faintly irritated with Richie for his own reasons and took no part in trying to defend him from the daggers of Maggie's cutting voice. 

"Yeah, champ...your boss called. Said you left yesterday. What happened?"

Richie sighed and took a large gulp from the water glass he had sat in front of him. His mind was racing at lightning speed as he thought of what he could possibly say to rationalize the wildness of the previous day. He had to tell them. There was soon to be many big changes that would inevitably affect them as well. But he thought of how crazy the direct truth would sound and altered it in his own defense. 

"Well," he started, his mind clouded with thoughts of the Devil and pawning off your soul, but he quickly stopped the thoughts from overcrowding and continued on, "I was in the shop, just messing around on a guitar, waiting for someone to come in. Someone did come in, but I didn't notice and just kept playing. I was singing a bit too. I guess they liked what they heard 'cause now this guy from Columbia records is trying to sign me to the label."

His parents stared at him in pure disbelief. Richie sat feeling that same feeling himself. Not because of yesterday's events, but because of the fact he was able to lie about them so easily. A fake story flooding into his mind, pushing aside any thoughts or doubts like a tsunami knocking out innocent pedestrians. 

"That isn't true, Richie," his mother said shaking her head at him, "You're clearly still hungover. And how could you drive yourself home after getting all drunk? Are you crazy? You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Oh, no mom, I didn-"

Richie's words were cut short by his own throat as his eyes caught a glimpse of their driveway through their kitchen window. Sat on the asphalt leading up to their garage, was his mother's car. The one he had taken out yesterday and left at the bar the night before.

_ Penelope,  _ he thought,  _ she's good. _

"I'll prove it to you," Richie blurted out as he stammered up from his seat. Any previous thought of trying to defend himself against Maggie's accusations of him driving impaired had disappeared. Now all he could think about was somehow  _ showing them _ .

"Richie," his mother called as she watched her son race up the stairs of their house, nearly missing a few. 

Richie ran into his room, smashing into the door frame in the process, and grabbed for his new  _ beautiful  _ guitar. It's weight in his hands shocked him yet again as if it were the first time he had held it. He let out a shaky laugh and brought it down the stairs, much more carefully this time. 

"Woah," his parents muttered in unison as they watched Richie enter the kitchen with a guitar they knew they could have never possibly afforded. The Tozier's were music people, and they both knew what a commodity the guitar their son held was, and knew even better that he couldn't have gotten it to form just anywhere, let alone the dump of a music store he worked in. 

"They gave it to me," he realized that he was referring to  _ her as _ _ they  _ or  _ them  _ for a strange reason, but he wasn't able to stop himself, "They said I was gonna need it."

Maggie reached forward and let her fingers touch the guitar's body gently. Went was ready to yank her back, but stopped himself, knowing that when he got close enough, he would want to lay his fingers upon it himself. 

He did just that as he leaned forward, feeling the guitar's icy chill under his fingertips.

"Fuck, Rich," he said looking up at his son with a smile, "You're gonna be a rockstar. Don't know which man to thank, God or the Devil."

He chuckled and reverted his gaze back down to the guitar before him, matching his wife's view. Richie watched his face and smiled.

"Ah, yes," he said holding the guitar in position for them to poke and prod, "Her."

* * *

Getting to the studio that morning was less of a challenge than Richie had anticipated. He imagined hours worth of arguing with his parents about going to work and stability and family and some other bullshit he didn't care about, but after laying eyes on his new money-maker, they urged him to go as soon as he could.

His mother allowed for him to once again take her car, although he knew  _ Penelope  _ would give him shit for it again. It would only be a matter of time until she changed that issue for him, or rather for the both of them, as she benefited from his success just as much as he did.

It was an understanding not many had, and it was this lack of understanding that aided her in her work as well. People saw celebrities, rich and famous, with beautiful fancy things, and that only made her job easier. More people practically lining up to exchange their souls in the name of fame. For the slightest even briefest taste of the lavish lifestyle.

Making his way into his, or now,  _ their recording _ space, he felt a sense of homeliness. He had only spent one day in that studio with those very people, but for some odd reason, he felt as if he had made his way home.

As he opened the door, his bandmates turned and smiled at him. Beverley and Mike both worse sunglasses over there eyes, but he could tell that even in their hungover haze lying beneath the sunglasses, they still had that optimistic glow in them. He returned the smiles, feeling comforted and completely at ease. Then he noticed the other eyes in the room. There was Nick as well as two other men around his age dressed in a similar fashion. Richie gulped. He could see  _ Penelope  _ sat behind them, giving him a look of encouragement. 

"Richie!" Nick called and clapped him on the back. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Eddie flinched at the sound from his spot on the couch.

He was quick to introduce him to the two other men and just as quickly sent him into the booth to record a few things that the band would soon back up.

After a few hours of messing around, Richie noticed the men from the label seemed to have come to a sort of collective agreement. The three men all nodded to each other with slight smirks on their faces and urged everyone to stand around. 

Nick appeared to take charge of everything, from conversation to direction, it was clear who was calling the shots with Columbia Records.

"Here's what we're gonna do," Nick started, addressing them all yet staring strikingly at Richie, "We wanna offer you a five-album deal. You make some kick-ass songs, make a shit ton of money, get a ton of women, or men whatever it's none of my business, and we get to handle the rights of the music, so it's a win-win situation."

"A five-album deal?" Richie repeated.

Behind him, everyone was giddy with excitement and Ben held his arm in a friendly grip. 

Nick nodded at him with a smile, "All you gotta do is say yes, and we'll go on and get our paperwork."

Richie stood there, stunned, his mouth open but no sound coming out of it. Everyone giggled and Ben pulled on his arm gently.

Beverly shoved him gently with a quiet laugh, "Say yes, Richie!"

Richie flinched slightly as he was shoved forward and shook his head with a laugh, "Yes. Yes, we'll take it."

Nick put his arms up and the room roared in celebration. _Penelope_ watched from her spot in the corner of the room, smiling as her client's short-lived life started to climb for its climax. 

Within the hour, papers were passed and thrown around the room, signatures were scrawled on dotted lines and lives were sold away to the industry. Nick gathered the papers carefully once the signing was all done and the two men with him shared a knowing smile at the excitement filling the room.

"Richie Tozier and the Losers Club", Nick glanced up from the papers to the rest of them, "welcome to Columbia Records."

Another cheer erupted in the room and Richie felt Mike's strong hand clasp and shake at his shoulder. He laughed and fixed his glasses before they knocked to the floor from the multiple shoves and hits he was receiving. His eyes looked to that of Eddie's and Eddie sent him a genuine smile that would have knocked Richie to his knees had he not been sitting down. 

"W-we'd better start r-recording," Bill said, and Richie sensed once again that Nick could have and would have made a joke about his stutter.

"You guys do that," he said observing Bill for a moment before moving his eyes around the rest of the room, "Enjoy this room for now. This'll be your last time in here before you guys come into our real nice one."

Stanley let out a quiet squeal of excitement from his spot next to Beverley and Nick smiled and held up a hand in a casual wave.

He was soon out of the room, his co-workers trailing behind him, leaving the band as well as  _ Penelope _ sitting in the studio.

She stood up from the couch and moved her hair from her forehead, "Well, you kids seem to have an idea what you've got to do. I'll be going then."

Everyone chimed a sing-song like goodbye and  _ Penelope  _ made her way to the exit. With everyone in their chattering daze of excitement, Richie stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait."

She turned to look at him and immediately picked up on the questioning look he wore on his face. She tapped his shoulder and sent him a smile that appeared to be filled with genuine care and sureness. More genuine than Richie could have ever imagined the Devil could appear.

Somehow, someway, Richie understood. He understood that he was now taken care of, and he would be okay going forward. He allowed her to leave.

He turned back to his bandmates and joined them in the laughter and excitement they were sharing. It would soon come to a halt and they would be hard at work. 

* * *

Time seemed to be a nonexistent factor of the world as it flew by with the sounds of a few soon-to-be hit songs. 

After a rather exhausting night, Richie Tozier and the Losers Club were slowly filing out of the studio's parking lot and heading home for the night.

Richie watched as Beverley left with Ben and Mike and Stanley climbed into the front seat of Bill's car and headed off. He smiled to himself slightly, then flinched at the sound of Eddie kicking a rock with his shoe.

"I forgot you were there, Eddie."

Eddie looked at him and shrugged, "I usually leave last. I like to make sure everyone at least pulls out of the parking lot safe."

Richie smiled at his comment slightly, "How about we go out and get something to eat or something."

"Why?"

"Just cause."

Eddie shrugged and before he knew he was sat across Richie in a tight Denny's booth.

He watched as Richie plowed through his plate of food, clearly finding the appetite that was lost to him this morning. He couldn't help but laugh at the messiness.

Normally, such a messy eater, or a messy anything for that matter, would send Eddie into panic mode, but he somehow found Richie's messiness.. _endearing_. He couldn't stop himself from letting out a giggle.

Richie looked up from his plate, "What?" he smiled.

"Nothing, you're just such a mess," Eddie couldn't seem to get his smile off from his face and leaned forward to wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

Richie stared in wide-eyed awe as he let Eddie clean his mouth off. He felt his cheek flush as he realized this was something out of some corny foreign show he's watched. 

Eddie noticed and withdrew slowly, his smile remaining and a blush beginning to graze his own cheeks.

It was a moment. They were sharing some sort of silent almost _romantic_ exchange. 

That was until the music playing softly from the restaurant's speakers caught Richie's ear.

He let out a loud gasp that received a jolt in Eddie's body in response.

Richie grabbed his fork and put it to his mouth as if it were a microphone. 

_Well, Jessie, doll, darlin', I love you so_  
_Oh, I will never never never let you go_  
_Come darlin', let's go on by by by_

Richie sang along and Eddie covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

Richie was surprised that Eddie didn't feel the need to burst into song himself and gave him a look of genuine surprise and almost hurt. 

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Do you not know this song?"

"No."

"Ritchie Valens?"

Eddie only tilted his head and Richie put a hand on his chest in disbelief.

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Richie said before clearing his throat and tilting his head back. He clenched his hands into fists and whisper-screamed, "ritchieeeeee!"

When he looked back to Eddie, he was staring at him as if he had gone completely insane. 

"Are you kidding?" Richie asked, "You've never seen La Bamba?"

"I have no idea what that is."

Richie shook his head, "You have to watch it. I have to bring you somewhere to watch it."

"You are clearly far too embarrassing to go anywhere with in public."

Richie laughed and reached for his wallet in his jeans pocket, "Well, you're gonna wanna come out with me, Eddie. I'm gonna be a star. Star's don't just fall out of the sky now do they?"

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows together. Although he thought Richie was acting like a complete idiot, that was actually a very striking thing for him to say. Especially in Eddie's devout love for the sky's twinkling stars, he felt that that one line was enough to make him fall in love with him. (Unfortunately for Eddie, he would soon find that all Richie managed to do was quote La Bamba.)

Still in a slight shock from Richie's words, Eddie reached for his own wallet, "Let me."

"Sh," Richie said before shoving his cash on the table, "I'm gonna be a rich rockstar soon anyway."

Eddie smiled and recoiled his wallet. He could not wait to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you came from reading 10 Days, yes, I love Ritche Valens, no, I will never stop referencing him in my Reddie fics.


	6. When I Called You Last Night From Glasgow

Before Richie could even begin to fathom what his future possibly entailed, he was thrown out onto the road and found himself in a new city nearly every night. 

An album that skyrocketed up the charts faster than any of them could have anticipated and thousands of people lining up outside of venues waiting to see Richie Tozier and the Losers Club in action came at them over the course of half a year like an unstoppable flying tonne of bricks.

Talk shows and radio interviews were thrown at the band left, right, and center as Eddie got non-stop phone calls from famous personnel urging for a chance to speak to the new and hot band. 

Richie doesn't think he'll ever forget the first time he heard the man behind the radio announce his song to be played next. He had been driving with  _ Penelope _ that day, riding up in the front next to her with Beverly and Ben sat in the back seat. They were heading out in celebration of the album's release and Richie was sat with a dazed smile spreading across his face. 

The man's voice was low, but in the calm silence they shared, they all heard it at once, "And now we got a little something new brought to us out here today, and let me tell you, we took a listen earlier and it is  _ good.  _ Something pretty new and on the rise for sure, I would pay close attention to this group. Starting you off on your Drive At Five here is Richie Tozier and the Losers Club with their single,  _ Call Me A Clown _ , off their new album  _ In The Barrens." _

Upon hearing the man's eccentric and animated voice Richie sprung forward from his once relaxed seat in the car. As seen by him briefly in the rearview mirror, Ben and Beverley appeared to do the same.  _ Penelope _ stayed composed in her driver's seat, a small smile appearing as she continued to drive. 

"Was that fucking us?" Beverly asked eagerly.

Richie turned in his seat and looked at her briefly, "It's fucking us!" he yelled before turning the radio's volume dial and allowing for the sound to encompass the car's interior. 

Rather quickly, but surely, Richie had to get himself used to that fast. Soon, his and the band's music was played everywhere, and they were slowly getting to be recognized in public.

Eddie thinks they owe it all to Nick from Columbia Records for getting them on board, Stan is convinced it's all because of Richie's stage presence and his opened up button-down style he'd taken on that drove people insane, but Richie knew that there was only one person to which he owed anything to. That was  _ Penelope. _

Now, having just turned 22 years old, Richie is sat on a couch, Mike Hanlon in front of him, and a bunch of girls surrounding the two of them. Despite all of the female attention they were receiving, neither of them paid any mind, keeping focus on each other as they talked and passed a joint back and forth between the two of them.

It had been an incredibly fast weekend and in looking around, Richie barely remembered where he was. It wasn't until he heard the accents of the women around him that he remembered he was in Glasgow, in the green room of the SSE Hydro Arena. 

Stanley stormed in, pushing the door open roughly as he waved his hand as to shoo the smoke away from his face.

He looked at the two stoned members frantically, "Guys we're on in like 7 minutes come on!"

"Shit," Mike muttered before standing up, helping Richie to his feet in the process.

"Eddie misses two dates and suddenly I'm the band's parent," Stan grumbled as he walked them to the wing of the stage. 

Richie's dazed and stoned mind suddenly wandered to Eddie. He had gotten sick back in Berlin and went back home, leaving them on their own for the few UK cities listed on the tour.

Richie decided that he missed Eddie and laughed to himself as he thought of Eddie busting in on him and Mike smoking that joint surrounded by all those girls. For a reason he could not fathom, he wondered if Eddie would have been jealous, but then immediately asked himself,  _ now why would he be jealous? _

Once they reached the wing of the stage, Richie was still in an Eddie-infused daze and Beverley laughed as she saw his face. She had no eye view into his mind, so to her, all that was before her was a boy completely high out of his mind with bulging red eyes who could not comprehend a thing around him.

"Jesus Rich, you really can't handle yourself huh?" she said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small steel container. The container read  _ mints _ on its top, but upon opening it, there was a different type of small white candy to be seen.

She grabbed a straw off of the snack table by the wing and passed it to Richie, "Here, wake yourself up."

He put to the straw to the white dust of the tin and snorted it quickly up his nose. He tilted his head back and coughed a little, "Thank you, Bev."

She patted his arm and turned her attention to the stage as the lights went out and the crowd roared.

Their cue to join the empty stage.

An hour and a half later, people left the SSE hydro high on the wildness of the show they had just experienced.

Richie Tozier with his bare abdomen, shredding on that beautiful guitar and belting out lyrics to all of their favorite songs in his whiskey-like voice. 

"The Losers Club" backing him up perfectly with their onstage chemistry and individual talent. 

Even in the intoxication of the crowd-and that had been quite a wild one, probably the best he had seen throughout the entirety of the tour so far-, Richie couldn't stop thinking,  _ I wish Eddie could've been here to see this one.  _

As he walked off the stage, the crowd's screams still echoing in his ears, with his bandmates tapping him on his back and patting his shoulders in good nature, he thought to himself that he would say that at any and every show Eddie had happened to miss. 

Richie's relationship with Eddie was quite a difficult one. Eddie got very irritable very fast when it came to Richie and his wild young rock star behaviour. He had no  _ feelings _ for Richie (at least none that he would admit out loud just yet), although he did let him do that one thing that one time, but he knew that Richie was knocked on his knees by his firmness and direction. Sometimes, he even found himself being hard on him and the rest of the members just because he knew that Richie was enjoying it.

If Richie was presented with this factoid, he would shamelessly admit to it, saying that Eddie drove him crazy when he acted like his mother, earning the laughter of those listening. But more importantly, Richie felt certain  _ feelings _ for Eddie. Feelings he had never felt for Connor Bowers or anyone he had ever hooked up with in the past (which at this point included his entire band). 

Now here Richie was, in the middle of a foreign place, his friends all partying and celebrating the amazing show around him, and he was thinking of their tour manager who was sat home most likely worrying about what the weather would be like when he picked back up and joined them on tour.

"W-what are y-you doing, Rich?" Bill asked as he opened a beer with a bottle opener.

"Nothing, do they got one of those payphones back here?" Richie had a cellphone that worked perfectly fine, but after finally getting to show Eddie  _ La Bamba _ , he decided that there would be a sweetness in him using the payphone as Lou Diamond Phillips did in the movie, even though, realistically, Eddie wouldn't know he was using the payphone unless he told him. 

A venue security guard passing by heard Richie's question and stopped his fast-pacing walking to point him in the direction of the payphone.

"Thanks, man. Hey, guys, I'll be right back."

They all chatted away and put up a hand for Richie to go. He turned around and headed toward the payphone. 

He leaned against the wall and took the phone off its hook. He dug out some old quarters from his jean pocket and put them into the coin slot. He didn't need to look for the contact in his cellphone, as he had managed to memorize Eddie's phone number. A fact he was so proud of he made a point to shove it to Eddie as often as he could.

As he held the phone to his hear and listen to its low dialing sound, he shivered and rested the phone between his head and shoulder. He buttoned up one of the buttons in the middle of the shirt to keep it slightly closed around him without making him look like a complete tourist father. 

"Edward Kaspbrak" Eddie's voice rang through the phone and Richie smiled as he took the phone back into his hand. 

"Hey, Eddie baby, how you doin'?"

"Can you please stop calling me baby?" Eddie was sat back home in Maine, in his bed, with his laptop placed in a pillow over his lap, trying to put together last-minute tour hotel arrangements.

Richie's excited smile turned into a soft and gentle one, filled with content, "Sorry. I missed you tonight."

"You did, did you?" Eddie was barely taking in his words as he searched through his computer. 

"I did," he said through his smile, sighing softly, "We kicked ass out here in Glasgow."

Eddie moved his face closer to the computer, reading the descriptions and reviews of various foreign hotels, "Mhm."

Richie then giggled to himself as he realized he was literally calling Eddie from Glasgow and his slightly buzzed brain was filled with Abba lyrics.

"All I do is eat and sleep and sing."

"Uh-huh"

"Wishing every show was the last show."

"What? Richie, sorry I didn't catch that."

Richie smiled, "Nothing baby, nothing," he paused for a moment and listened to the sound of Eddie's keyboard clicking behind the telephone, he mumbled out a few of the lyrics he couldn't fully remember before it all flooded back to him once again and he repeated the song to Eddie in the form of spoken word, "Part of a success that never ends. Still, I'm thinking about you only."

Eddie stopped typing as he heard this, suddenly now, he was hearing Richie's every word and thought his statement was that of a confession to him. One that didn't involve any crude humour or jokes about his mother. Just sincerity and the need for Eddie to know that, more than anything, Richie  _ needed him. _

"What's that, Richie?"

Richie smiled and replied absent-mindedly, unknowing to the fact that Eddie was touched by his words, "ABBA. Super Trouper. You know that one?"

Eddie's face fell as he suddenly remembered the song's lyrics as his mind pieced together the words Richie had been saying.

"Fuck you, Richie," he said and hung up the phone.

Richie laughed to himself before putting in another coin and dialing his number again. He could do this all night and even though he would continuously hang up angrily, so could Eddie. 


	7. God is a Woman

After about a week or so more of international dates, everyone made their way back to America and settled down for a few days in Los Angelas before some more big shows picked up. 

Richie, so far, adored the tour life and wouldn't have it any other way, but those last few dates without Eddie were not as enjoyable as they would have been had he been there. 

Now, he stayed laying in a hotel bed, Eddie attached to his side and suddenly felt as if he had been missing something for the last nearly two weeks. He felt as if he had been  _ deprived _ of the affectionate physical contact Eddie always provided him with and felt as if the universe had cheated him from being happy even if it was only for an amount of time that could be simply counted in days. 

Richie ran his hand down Eddie's bare back gently and he shivered in response. 

"I have a hard time believing there were no groupies involved."

Richie moved his hand up to gently ruffle his hair, "None. For me at least."

"Well... why not?"

"Because I only want you, Eddie. What am I gonna do with some groupie?"

Eddie chuckled, "I have worked with a few people like you in my short career and believe me, it doesn't matter how perfect they got it at home no one resists the groupies." 

"You are my groupie."

Eddie pushed back slightly from his snug placement on Richie's chest and looked at him with an appalling light in his eyes, "I most certainly am not."

Richie giggled and leaned his head down slightly to press a kiss to his lips, but as he almost made the contact, his phone began to ring. 

"Might be important," Eddie said as he reached over his body to grab the cellphone off the fancy hotel bed-side table. He took a look at the screen and then nodded before passing it to him, "It's Penelope."

"Penelope?" Richie asked with a tone of pure confusion as he took the phone. To Eddie, it appeared that he only had his response due to surprise or confusion as to why she would be calling him, but in reality, Richie had still not gotten used to the name  _ Penelope _ after all this time, and still found himself thrown off by the use of the name placed on a woman who he knew as the Devil. 

He soon realized what exactly was going on and put the phone to his hear, "Hello?"

"Hello! Richie, my dear, how are you?" The Australian voice erupted through the speaker of Richie's phone, causing him to flinch slightly, moving the cellphone away from his ear.

"I'm uh... I'm good, just getting back from overseas, a little jet lag you know?"

She laughed in an exaggerated manner, making it appear fake, "Yes, yes of course. Anyway, I want to meet up with you. Check-in. If I send you an address that isn't too far from where you're staying will you come see me?"

"Like, right now?" He asked as he scratched the back of his head.

"Mhm."

"Alright, I guess. Send me the address, I'll see you soon."

"See you, dear!" She clicked the phone shut on her end and Richie placed it back down with a sigh.

"She need to see you?" Eddie asked. 

Richie stood from his spot on the bed and changed into the clothes he had been wearing the night before, "Yeah."

Eddie scrambled for his own phone and frantically clicked away at his keyboard, "I'm letting the driver know to come get you right at the door."

Richie smiled slightly and watched Eddie click away almost angrily. Whenever he got in his manager zone, Richie couldn't help but have to force back laughter as he could only think of one word.  _ Cute cute cute cute cute.  _

Even without his glasses on, Richie knew that whatever he was doing, he looked damn cute doing it, and went into the washroom to place contacts in his eyes. He much preferred his glasses over his contacts, even when head banging and thrashing around during a show, but he hoped that he would be less recognizable in public without them.

"Alright he's heading to the front, go ahead."

Richie walked out of the washroom and kissed him on the cheek, "Thanks babe, now I have to do a walk of shame out of the hotel."

Eddie giggled and rushed him off.

As soon as he stepped out of the hotel's front doors, he was nearly swarmed by people with cameras who yelled to him things that he could not clearly make out over all of the combination of voices. A tall man who waited by the car quickly swopped in and shoved them all to the side, leading Richie to the car protectively and helping him to get in.

Once the car door was closed behind him, Richie was nearly out of breath. Fan mobs and paparazzi were not something he thinks he could ever get used to, especially out in the big cities like L.A or New York where they are always the most aggressive and determined to catch you somewhere.

He glanced out of the tinted window as the car rolled away and the sight of the mob nearly knocked the wind out of him for a second time. He slumped himself back into his seat and fidgeted with the strings on his waistband. 

When the car pulled up in front of a small, hip cafe, the driver turned back to look at Richie, "You're gonna maybe want to cover up this time."

"Yeah, you're right. Got any glasses or something?" 

The driver opened up his hidden sleek glove compartment and pulled out a blacked-out pair of Prada sunglasses.

"Gonna need to give these back after. These are my wife's."

Richie took them and briefly examined them. They were clearly women's cut glasses, but over the course of the last year of his career, in which he became known for his androgyny, this didn't bother him in the slightest. He shrugged and put them on.

"Thanks. I'll see you when I come out."

"I'll be here."

This time, when Richie stepped out, there was no swarm of people. He sighed of relief, for as long as there were no tabs or documents on his locations, he was safe. He made his way into the cafe effortlessly. 

He spotted  _ Penelope _ sitting by her lonesome at a small square table in the corner, gazing thoughtfully out of the window. He made his way over and sat in the chair across from her.

She turned her eyes from the window to him and smiled brightly, "Ah, Richie! You're here! I didn't know. Just kidding. I knew. I know everything."

She laughed crazily and Richie awkwardly laughed along, "Yeah, I'm here."

"Anyway," she said dismissing the laughter with a wave of her hand, "I just wanted a little update on how you've been doing. I can't just live off your photos and TV appearances," she boasted.

Richie rolled his eyes behind the sunglasses with a smile and put his hands up in defence.

"Seriously, it's been a while. This contract requires some meet-ups and updates Mr. Rockstar."

"Well, tour has been pretty cool, I'm really enjoying it."

She smiled  _ devilishly _ , "I knew you would."

He nodded to her, "I've been really enjoying the band and I love our dynamic we have."

"Mhm," she muttered, and Richie could almost hear a hint of concern in her tone, but before he could even give it a thought, she was back to her bright self, "And the money! Oh, the money! You must be having a hay day, boy."

Richie shrugged, "I've been putting most of it away."

"Putting most of it away?" She repeated back. "Why?"

"I don't know," he smiled, "Could be of good use one day. I also want to give some of it away to some sort of charity or something like that."

She nearly scoffed but quickly stopped herself, "Charity? Why? You're a rich young rockstar, use it for your booze and drugs."

Richie shrugged again, "Most venues and hotels provide it and I really only smoke weed and do some coke sometimes, but that's about it. It doesn't really cost me much."

"No no no no no," she started, once again waving her hand, "You're doing it all wrong. You have to live a little. Damper in with the hard stuff, have a bunch of orgies with foreign hookers, party!"

"I don't know if I'm about all that stuff," he said casually. 

"Well, you better not waste your time away and get on it because trust me, you don't want to miss out."

She had a flash of menace in her eyes that Richie caught immediately. She locked eyes with him even through the fact that his were hidden behind the black veil of women's Prada.

The silent stare held for nearly a whole minute before she erupted back into a smile and the cheer resurfaced her being, "Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. You guys are really taking the world by storm, I'm proud of you."

Richie smiled at her softly, "Thank you."

They sat in a less tense silence for a moment before  _ Penelope _ said, "Alright, that's all. You're free to go."

"You're just going to stay here alone?"

"No, I have plans. I'm going to play a few rounds of pool with God."

"With God?" Richie asked.

"Yes, now get going I'm running late."

He stood up in surprise and tucked his chair into the table, "What's He like?"

" _ She _ is absolutely beautiful."

Richie chuckled and turned to walk out. She watched his back intently and her eyes could almost burn holes into his back. With a quick nod of her head, she watched as Richie walked through the door and got immediately swarmed by fans and reporters. He nearly fell back into the cafe and a rush of noise burst through the room before a large man was seen pushing through the crowd and pulling Richie forward, making the door slowly close itself.

She turned her head back to the empty chair in front of her and took a sip from a tea she had left sitting on the table before getting up and leaving herself. 

**Author's Note:**

> high heels, HIGH HEELS, red dress, ReD DResS


End file.
